


Shackles

by happyisahabit



Series: Starlight Collection [14]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kissing, Loving Marriage, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: “Well married a person has wings, poorly married shackles.” - Henry Ward BeecherMaka and Black Star find that not everyone shares their views or experiences with married life.Written for MaStar Week 2019 // Shackles





	Shackles

“She’s such a drag- a real ball and chain!” Asshole of the Day shouts, spilling a little of his third beer on their table in his enthusiasm to share how horrible he thought his wife was. BlackStar vaguely remembered her from the last staff picnic. She seemed a little bland, but nice. And he definitely remembered the mint iced chocolate chiffon cake she brought with her. That was delicious- ooh and that dark chocolate ganache…

Either way, BlackStar tunes out the rest of what Asshole says. He flags down the nearest waitress that passes and gives her a pleading look. She takes one glance at the growing spill on the table and the Asshole and nods sharply. Unfortunately, BlackStar’s hand movement has brought about unwanted attention.

“Oy, BlackStar! You and your gal been together a while now, huh?” Asshole leads, expecting the worst from him. BlackStar twists the simple carbon-fiber band on his ring finger.

“Three years, two months married, but together longer than that,” he says, praying the waitress returns before this guy drags him into a conversation he can’t easily escape. He can’t help but add the barb though. “Happily, I may add.”

“Not as long as me, then,” the guy grins. “So don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

The waitress appears out of thin air at BlackStar’s elbow, armed with his check and a thick wad of napkins. He helps her spread them out on the table while staring down the Asshole. She vanishes the minute his credit card is in hand. 

Tone icy, BlackStar crowds the others in the booth to close in on the pest. “And where… will I get?”

Not to be cowed, the guy leans forward again, sloshing his new fourth beer on top of the soaked napkins. “To the point where you wonder what you married ‘em for. Bet you’ve thought it a time or two already; everyone does! You’ll get there, to the point where all they do is nagging and all they’re good for is sha-”

BlackStar slaps his hand on the table loudly. He can feel the waitress hovering next to their table and that uncoils one of the many tension knots he can feel built up from this guys’ night out. 

“I hope you weren’t about to imply that everyone who’s married is miserable. I know you weren’t about to imply that my wife is only good for an easy lay,” he whispers, murder in his eyes. He grabs the check and quickly signs it, leaving a large tip for the poor girl that still has to serve this guy and the rest of the men at the table who laughed right along. He stands and leans back over the table.

His eyes lock with the Asshole’s and flicker into their Starred form for a split second, just enough to make his scarred face look a little more menacing.

“If your marriage makes you, the scum of the earth, unhappy, I imagine it is torture for your wife. I hope she figures out how to rectify that soon. If you don’t love her, let her go.”

*****

“He just makes me feel so unwanted. What ever happened to us?”

If there’s one thing Maka had not wanted this impromptu girl’s night to turn into, it was a tear fest. Somehow, Liz, Patti and Tsubaki had all either been busy or bailed and it left her with her other coworkers and their friends and their friends’ friends. Several bottles of wine for the group later, Maka dearly wanted to go home.

The past hour had been nothing but women complaining about their boyfriends and husbands. It had started out with innocent teasing about weird habits each of them had until it disintegrated into dredging up very real problems with their relationships. Maka had seen other marriages and relationships (including her parents’) fall apart for far less than what she’d heard tonight.

And that was how they got to this point. Women crying in a public space, guzzling wine and comforting each other poorly by sharing more stories and trying to deflect guilt and any possible blame. Some truly had horrible partners that Maka thought they should drop immediately. Others, though, seemed to expect more out of their partners than they themselves wanted to give.

That was not how partnerships of any kind worked. Not if you were in it for the long haul.

The woman to Maka’s right turns to her suddenly, eyes red and lips tinted from wine. “You understand, don’t you, Maka?”

“No, I don’t,” Maka answers, surprised into honesty. Her response garners the attention of at least five other women near them.

“So your husband doesn’t-”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says firmly. Regardless of what the lady was about to say, it was unlikely to be a behavior BlackStar had ever displayed, unless it was to be reckless and stupid on occassion.

The pairs of eyes on her seem to triple and the cacophony of voices rises faster than she can address properly.

He doesn’t ignore you? “No, he hardly leaves me alone if--”

He’s affectionate with you? “More than that, I’d say-”

He doesn’t put you down? “Not at al-”

He doesn’t hit you? “When we spar- wait, do you need help-”

He tells you he loves you?

That one gives her pause and a hush falls over the group. Maka looks at her hands, littered with small scars left over from her days in the field. Her gaze lands on the ring pair on her finger. A thin carbon-fiber band and her engagement ring, an understated silver band with a single small white sapphire inlaid in the metal to avoid being caught on anything.

“Every day,” she whispers, twisting the slim bands. “He tells me in the morning, when I get home, and at night before sleep. Sometimes, just at random.”

There’s a pause then a chorus of cooes. Maka can feel the heat in her face and the intensification of her desire to go home. She can feel the rising curiosity ebbing off the women in waves, making up her mind. Maka shoves her chair back from the table and gropes through her bag for enough cash to cover her food and drink. She makes a mental note to follow up with the women who sounded like they had serious issues with their partners or were in danger and talk to Kim about any therapists she may know.

“I’ve got to go.”

She throws the money on the table to cheers and jeers of ‘does he have a brother’ and ‘does he give relationship lessons.’

****

BlackStar practically throws the door open, wishing he’d given that guy more than just a piece of his mind. He had power to spare, but no real outlet except the physical education and Soul Force classes he taught and the occasional spar. As much as Maka would have disagreed, he really could have gone for a good bar fight.

The light is on, meaning his wife is home and no sooner does he look up from locking the door than she descends upon him. She’s still wearing her work clothes and she tastes like wine. A girl’s night, then. He clings to her, drowns himself in her affection. Between each kiss she barely breaths, instead whispering ‘I love you, I love you’ as quickly as she can, like she’s trying to make up for times she didn’t say it.

As much as he didn’t want to- and he really didn’t want to- he pulls away. What BlackStar finds is that somehow, they’d moved into the living room, Maka’s butt is perched on the back of the couch, her legs hooked tightly around his hips, and she has one hand locked in his hair and the other deftly working the buttons at the top of his shirt. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” he says, trying in vain to get her to look him in the eyes. It’s difficult when she ducks her head down to nip at the collarbones her hand has exposed. “Not that I don’t love this- it’s super awesome, rad, even- but what’s going on?”

“Really, Star, your wife is showing you all this extra affection and you want to talk?” she says around her work on starting an impressive hickey on the base of his neck. He’s feeling a little love-drunk, but pushes past it, grabbing onto her wrists. Even as his fingers lace with hers, he wishes his hands could return to her butt.

“Nope, I super don’t want to talk, but we’re going to,” he says. She finally looks him in the eyes and he feels like he’s been suckerpunched. Green eyes looking up at him through ashy blonde hair, mussed by him. Flushed cheeks hiding faint freckles and kiss-reddened lips pressed closed. He takes a second to recompose himself. He’s not sure where to start, but it feels like most of the fight from the bar he’d been at. His head falls onto her shoulder. “I had a bad night. You?”

Her hands tighten around his. “Not bad, per se, but… uncomfortable?” He hums into her shirt and she extricates her hands to massage into his shoulders and what she can reach of his back. BlackStar nuzzles into her appreciatively and hugs her. “It did make me realize a few things, though.”

“Like what?” he mumbles.

“I love you.” She gently guides his head back up, holding his face so she can look at him. “I love you.”

He smiles and leans into her palm. “I love you, too.”

“Now, what happened to you? Bad night..?”

BlackStar rolls his eyes hard. “There was just some dick smack talking his own wife and he expected everyone to agree with him that being married is shit.” He expounds, letting go of all the little things that set him off ‘the Asshole,’ relaxing more and more with Maka’s hands tracing his cheeks, neck and shoulders. “Honestly, if he isn’t even going to try then he’s the ball and chain, I mean- ...what?”

He pauses when he catches her expression. It is horribly fond and amused, like Maka’s just cracked some great secret code.

“Alright, what is it? Something I said?”

She laughs and uses her arms around his shoulders to propel herself up and into his arms, off the couch back. He holds her up easily as she touches her nose to his affectionately. “Nothing. Never change, Star. I-”

“Love me?” he grins, wattage turned all the way up. “I may have heard.”

“Heard, huh? How about seen?”

“I’m an alright visual learner, but I’m really more hands-on.”

“Good thing I’m a versatile teacher.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a partner that isolates, berates, belittles, demeans, hurts or threatens you, emotionally or physically, please please please seek help or accept help offered. You don't deserve it and you definitely don't need it. Love yourself and be kind to yourself first and foremost.


End file.
